Leather and Velvet
by lesqui
Summary: Sani Brightwood never expected that when she followed her friend to a biker party a few cities over, it would land her in jail. Happy Lowman never expected to be the one bailing her out. He's not a saviour; good thing she's not there to be saved.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

It wasn't like he truly wanted to be banging on the door to her apartment. She wasn't a friend of the club; the friend of a friend of a Croweater, more like. She'd shown up at a party once, bright-eyed and barely-legal. Of course, they'd done a brief background check on her. Just in case.

He'd never thought this would be the 'just in case.'

She opened the door, soft light spilling into the hall from behind her. Her dark curls were tied up and away from her face, eyes tired but not riddled with sleep. She'd been awake, then.

Her brow furrowed in confusion when she saw him, and then eyes widened in shock when she saw the blood.

"Bloody hell."

Her accent had been one of the things to captivate her in the eyes of more than one member, but now it did no more than irritate him.

"Let me in."

She stepped aside, finally seeming to comprehend the situation. The door shut, lock clicked, and she led him to her bathroom wordlessly. He began stripping as she dug out what looked like an old first aid kit.

She set it on the counter, turning to study him for a moment. "Do you need help with anything?"

He grunted. "Got any Iodine?"

She retrieved it, presenting the bottle for a moment before placing it beside the kit. "Should I call anyone?"

"No."

She was quiet for another moment. "Will you clean up the blood from my tub?"

He gave her a look that was almost scathing but not quite. "Yes."

She studied him for a moment longer before turning to walk out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

###

Two days later, Happy Lowman scowled at the TV as it reported the arrest of Sani Brightwood for aiding and abetting in the murder of someone under witness protection.

###

 _New story. A Happy/OC!_

 _If you're coming over from As the Crow Flies, I hope you're ready for another fun ride. If you're new, welcome to my little corner of FF, I hope you enjoy your stay :)_

 _Nothing is mine except Sank; Kurt Sutter gets everyone else._

 _Read and review!_

 _Kisses!_


	2. Chapter 1

_Alright let's get this story started!_

 _I'm so happy that you guys are as excited as I am :)_

 _A few things:_

 _1) the chapter length for this story will probably be shorter than for As the Crow Flies_

 _2) this story starts out a little dark. Not super bad, just... Most Happy/OC stories I've read it starts out with some sort of meet-cute. Not this one. Though I will say everything that happens is consensual._

 _Okay, happy reading!_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Sani took a deep breath, and then another. It was nice to be back in her apartment. The charges had been dropped; she was entirely innocent in the face of plausible deniability. Not that having him post her bail was any help.

The young woman took a long swig from the vodka bottle in her hand.

His black eyes and low voice; the tattoos that covered his body. The way he tracked everything with the viciousness of a predator. The way he'd tracked her that night at the party so many weeks ago.

Her dual citizenship had proven useful when her father died, leaving her an orphan with more than enough money to move her life to the States to live with her uncle. Oakland, California was decidedly and drastically different from the quiet peacefulness of Buckinghamshire. She didn't mind it, though.

It was easy to find work as a junior administrator, and easier to find friends. Friends who, she had discovered, liked to shed the "good girl" life and run away to biker bars on the weekends. She'd agreed to accompany them on one of the excursions.

That's really where all the trouble had begun.

###

Happy was leaning against the bar, watching the girl dance on the pole. He'd already had his fun with one of the Croweaters, and though sated for the time being, knew he'd be calling on another one soon enough.

Quinn lounged beside him, also studying the Charming charter's clubhouse. "We got a call from Oregon. Might have to get a little messy."

Happy grunted. "Mexicans?"

"Aryans."

He grunted again. Both groups were as annoying as each other, and he enjoyed getting messy in them. It was satisfying in an entirely carnal way.

And, it'd been far too long since he killed someone.

"When we leaving?"

Quinn's lips twitched in a small grin. "Figured I'd wait 'til tomorrow. Let you have your fun."

Happy's lips twitched similarly, but he said nothing.

The party was in full swing, and maybe that's why the three girls thought they'd be able to slip in unnoticed. He noticed, though.

Her.

With her dark curls and dark skin. Dark eyes that flitted around the room. The subtle jewelry at her throat and wrists glittering in the lights of the clubhouse.

Her two friends were already skipping off, falling right in with the Croweaters. She didn't, though. She wandered around with the distinct air of caution. One of the prospects behind the bar offered a grin when she approached, and complied quickly to her request of a screwdriver.

A vodka girl, then.

As if suddenly sensing that she was under observation, her spine stiffened, head slowly moving as she tried to pinpoint who it was. When her gaze finally landed on him, he met it passively. Disinterested.

Her head cocked slightly, blinking once. And then the prospect presented her drink and she looked away.

Her friends found her soon enough, dragging her off to dance or smoke. Probably both. Maybe even fuck.

He was curious if she was that type. The one who'd let any of them drag her into a dark corner and use.

He doubted it.

By one-thirty he was certain she wasn't that type. Her friends, highly probable. But when he left the clubhouse for a moment's reprieve from the thrumming bass and clogged air, he found her perched on the picnic table, an entire bottle of vodka in dangling from her fingers.

Had she kissed the prospect for that?

His footfalls were silent, and he stopped, examining her again. He'd watched her off and on all night. She danced, but not in the way that promised sex. She smoked, but only a hit or two of weed.

And now she was-

Here.

Her head snapped up suddenly, turning to look at him again. She tensed and relaxed at the same time, recognizing both him and the threat he posed. He held her gaze, waiting for the inevitable questions.

Instead, she took a sip from the bottle and turned away.

He was almost amused. Maybe that was why he approached her.

"You're new."

She was silent for so long he thought she wouldn't respond. "Not really." The accent threw him for a moment. Whatever it was, it wasn't American.

He didn't answer, lounging on the bench by her legs. She didn't look at him, but her fingers tightened momentarily on the neck of the bottle.

They sat in silence, not companionable but not necessarily hostile. Her discomfort was visible, but not obvious. At least, he noted, she didn't chatter incessantly.

The only reaction he got was when he tugged the bottle from her hands. She made a soft noise of protest and scowled from the corner of her eye. But, she didn't protest.

Rather, she exhaled long and slow and reclined on her hands. "If you come back out, bring more."

Now he was amused. "Trynna get shitfaced?"

"Just vaguely sloshed."

"Try tequila." In his experience, it worked better than vodka.

Her nose twitched in stifled disgust. "No."

If Happy was a man who laughed, he would have then.

###

Sani slowly lay back on her sofa, closing her eyes against the lights if her living room. Right now, it was just too much effort to turn them off.

He had come back out, with that new bottle of vodka. She'd stayed because he didn't ask about where she was from or why she was here. He didn't try to not-so-discreetly shove a hand up her skirt.

She didn't see her friends again for the rest of the night, but that was fine. They'd told her it would probably happen, and she'd conceded easily. The issue, though, was that she was too drunk to safely drive to the hotel she'd spotted on their way through town earlier.

Too drunk to drive, but not drunk enough to be unbothered by the gag-inducing scent clinging to her.

She remembered him looking at her-maybe she'd made a noise. There had been something in his eyes. Not curiosity, but not entirely indifference either.

"I need to shower," had been her explanation.

"I have a shower."

She should have known then-

Sani took another long swig from the bottle in her hand.

"And you're willing to let me use it?"

One corner of his lips had twitched. "Gonna let me use you?"

Her eyes has widened, face going slack-but she hadn't said 'no.'

Sani cringed at the memory. She hadn't said no. She should've known. It was that series of bad choices that had landed him in her bathroom a few days before.

The vodka burned going down her throat, but she didn't stop until the bottle was empty.

She should've said no.

###

It was nice to be back at work. Though her time in American jail had lasted barely forty-eight hours, it was enough. It was more than enough.

She was greeted with the grinning faces of her friends. "So," Kayla began in her distinctive country drawl, "you went to jail?"

Sani sighed, sitting at her desk and flipping on the computer. "I quite despised it."

Rachel waved off her comment. "Aiding and abetting?"

"I'm not sure how the police reached that conclusion, either."

Kayla just snickered, looking at the clock. "Good to have you back, hun."

Sani smiled faint agreement. It was good to be back.

She knew they'd ask about who had posted her bail. She had long since decides she wouldn't tell. Nor would she tell how he'd stayed the night, and collected his "payment" from her for getting her out.

She should've said no.

###

Sani didn't see him again for a few weeks. She was glad. When he'd left her apartment after getting his payment, he had more or less said he'd be back. But he didn't return for first one week, and then two, and it slowly morphed into a month, and she was glad.

It was easy to return to work; the same news channel that had done the report of her arrest, was now condemning the police for improper speculation and holding her without cause. Her reputation salvaged, suddenly quite a few people wanted to know what it'd been like.

She spent as much of her time carefully deflecting questions as she did actually working.

Kayla and Rachel had returned to the biker bar a few times; Sani had firmly declined their invitations. She didn't want to see him, or it, or any of them, ever again.

She had just finished washing the dishes when she heard the front door open. She grabbed the nearest knife, ready to defend. Footsteps were heavy but quiet down the hall, and when the shadow paused, she leapt.

He ducked under her wild swing, grabbing her and disarming her in a second, forcing her back against the wall in the next. She struggled, and only when he kissed her, hard and vicious, did she recognize who it was.

Her struggling stop, but he didn't let her go. Black eyes scanned her face, down her body, over the raggedy shirt and shorts that served as pajamas. His fingers tightened aground her wrists, and she knew then he was going to fuck her right there, against the wall.

He didn't even bother removing their clothes, just shifting them enough to get access. It was to her own shame she was already wet, already ready for him.

The corner of his lips twitched up slightly when he felt that, and he slid a condom on before thrusting in. She gasped, and clung to him, knowing her only option was to ride it out. It was hard and brutal, and when he finally came, her legs couldn't support her. She collapsed to the floor when he stepped back.

Black eyes watched her, almost indifferent but not quite.

He didn't help, and she didn't expect him to. He left a few minutes later, and she still hadn't moved from her spot curled up on the floor. Only after she heard his motorcycle rumble away did she stand, moving slowly to the bathroom.

She inspected herself in the mirror. He'd left marks this time. She couldn't decide if she cared or not.

After cleaning herself up and washing her face, again, she went back out to her living room, intent on finding a series to watch and not sleeping. She froze halfway through the room. On her coffee table sat a new bottle of vodka that definitely hadn't been there before he came.

She sighed deeply and grabbed it on her way to the sofa.

She should've said no.

###

 _What do you guys think? It'll get better as it goes; pinky promise._

 _Read and review._

 _Kisses!_


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Happy stood in the middle of her living room, simply studying her. He'd arrived almost five minutes earlier, intent on a shower and a fuck, ensuring he brought the flavour of vodka he'd noticed she preferred. Her door was unlocked and he'd walked in easily, silently.

And now he just stood, studying.

Because she was curled in a corner of her sofa, tucked under a throw blanket and sound asleep.

Because he was unsure what to do. It would be-mean, if he woke her up. But he also wasn't very much used to being nice.

She gasped suddenly, jerking up and blinking at him. Blearily, at first, and then with increasing levels of annoyance. He stared back.

After a moment, she tugged her blanket closer. "I don't feel like it."

Happy felt a spark of mild annoyance, but tamped it down. "Shower?"

She considered for a moment, and then inclined her head slightly towards the bathroom. He put the bottle on the coffee table, moving to the bathroom wordlessly. The water was hot and her soap decidedly feminine, but it was nice to be clean. The only towel he could find was hers, and he quietly enjoyed how soft it was on his skin.

By the time he'd dressed in a clean change of clothes and emerged from the bathroom, she was fully awake and up, moving quietly around the kitchen. He watched for a second before being able to identify that she was making tea.

He wasn't sure she knew he was there until she spoke. "You left marks last time."

He leaned against the doorframe, tracking her every movement. "You attacked me with a knife."

She paused, sending him an unimpressed look over one shoulder. "You broke in."

"The door was unlocked." He'd never admit that he was distantly enjoying the mild banter.

"It's polite to knock."

"I'm not polite."

She finished preparing her tea and turned to face him fully. The light in the kitchen was dull, but still bright enough for him to see the tired annoyance in the lines around her eyes. "Can I help you with anything else, Happy?"

He held her gaze, vaguely impressed that she didn't flinch or look away. "You don't feel like it."

Easy acceptance, and maybe even an apology. He sure as hell didn't know.

Her only sign of surprise was a stuttering blink, and it sat somewhat uncomfortably that she'd thought he'd press it on her.

The moment passed, though, and she brushed by him in her way out of the kitchen. "Spare blankets are in the cupboard in the hall."

Not as easy as his, but still a form of acceptance. Even though the sofa was somewhat small, he slept soundly.

###

Kayla fell back on her large bed with a deep sigh. "What a fucking week."

Sani snickered, bringing the blunt to her lips and inhaling slowly. "One way to put it."

Rachel shifted to make room for Kayla, knocking a spare bra off as she did so. "Weekend plans?"

Kayla took the blunt from Sani. "We did Indian Hills last weekend." Her voice held that familiar speculative edge.

Rachel hummd quietly in the back of her throat. "So. Tacoma or Charming?"

"Or a film and club, like regular people," Sani suggested mildly.

Rachel coughed out laughter. "Hun, we are the farthest from normal."

"Could always pretend."

Kayla shook her head, exhaling, and Rachel laughed again. "I'm thinking Charming."

Kayla shrugged. "I'm happy with that. Sani?"

The dark-skinned woman sighed quietly, thinking of black eyes and vicious kisses, and wondering if he would be there, and wondering if she'd avoid him or not. "Suppose I'll come."

Rachel grinned happily. "We should pack bags. It'd be easy to be there all weekend."

Sani arched a brow. "I'll drive separately. One of my coworkers is on maternity leave and I volunteered to be on stand-by in case they needed me." Not a lie, but also a gratefully used excuse.

Her friends didn't argue, though Kayla rolled her eyes. "You are so incredibly lame sometimes."

Sani didn't bother to answer, mentally running through her closet. She had quite the outfit in mind, and didn't bother considering if it was for him or not.

###

She was a bitch, Happy decided as soon as she walked in. A short skirt and thin top that showed more than it hid.

And she walked right by him, right up to the prospect. Where she stayed for a long time, laughing and flirting, and he knew with insight's surety that she was doing this as a dig at him. He just didn't know why.

And that, the not knowing, bothered him more than what she was actually doing. They weren't anything other than quick fucks and showers, but she was acting in a way he'd seen some Old Ladies act when trying to get a rise out of their man.

He was confused.

And that bothered him.

###

Sani knew there would be consequences for her actions, but she felt they were necessary. She needed to know. How much power she had in this... Thing they had happening.

Rachel nudged her. "The scary one is staring at you."

"He does that." She flicked her hair over one shoulder, giving the nervous prospect her full attention again. "You're nicer than most."

He managed a shakey grin, and she wondered if Happy had put some sort of quiet claim on her when she hadn't been around.

"Yeah, thanks. I mean, they're good guys, too-"

"But you're the nice one," she interrupted his ramblings. "I like nice men."

The poor thing looked proper terrified. "I, uh, shouldn't, you shouldn't," he glanced over his shoulder, noticing a pile of empty bottles and gesturing them wildly. "Gotta clean stuff up."

He disappeared in the next second, and Rachel laughed. "Jesus, Sani. What you got going on here?"

Before she could answer, she felt a large presence at her back, looming and familiar. Rachel just arched a brow, as if that was all the answer she needed, and Sani sighed. "Can I help you?"

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound angry or jealous, just vaguely annoyed.

She didn't bother turning to him. "Social experiment."

He snorted. "You're a bitch." When she just met Rachel's amused gaze and took a long sip of her drink, he leaned down to rumble in her ear, "Come shower later."

He was gone by the time she swallowed, and Rachel snickered. "So, that's what you have going on here. And tonight you're doing this as...some sort of power play?"

The dark-skinned woman considered for a moment. "Suppose so. I really want to know how much power I even have against him."

Concern lit her friend's eyes. "Has he hurt you?"

Sani simply slid her a mild look. "Isn't that what he does?"

Rachel blinked, and sighed. "And you called us the crazy ones."

"You are," Sani reaffirmed. "Seems I have a penchant for those."

###

She had considered just getting in her car and driving home once the alcohol wore off, but she was exhausted and reeked, and still a long way from sober enough to safely drive. He opened the door on the first knock, stepping back wordlessly to let her in.

She moved past him, stripping on her way to the bathroom, letting her clothes litter his floor. The water was hot and strong, and she emerged twenty minutes later clean and smel!inf like his soap. The towel kept her covered as she rooted through her bag for a change of clothes.

She felt him before she heard him. "Social experiment." It was an order to explain.

She didn't immediately, letting the towel fall and pulling on her raggedy old pajamas. Those black eyes tracked her every movement, but he waited with an almost unnatural stillness. Final!y comfortable, she reclined against the wall behind her, crossing her arms and meeting his gaze.

"Yes." She wasn't going to explain, and that was her way of telling him.

His lips twitched in what she was beginning to recognize his version of silent amusement and he moved back towards his bed. "How you feeling tonight?"

She didn't move. "How rough do you plan on being?"

He seemed to consider that for a moment, eyes glazing as he thought. Then they focused on her again. "No marks."

"If I want to stop?"

"We stop. I'll be angry."

It was that first sentence that truly mattered. "We stop."

He nodded silent confirmation, and she finally began a lazy saunter towards him.

###

The next time he showed up at her apartment, he still barged right in, but at least he knocked first.

###

 _Wow I am so in awe and flattered by the amount of feedback and support in such a short time. You guys are truly wonderful :)_

 _So, I've determined the writing style for this fic, and for it to work the way I want, the chapters will be short. But, hopefully they still live up to expectations._

 _See? Told you it got better. I just wanted to try something new with my characters._

 _Read, review._

 _Kisses!_


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

They fell into a sort of unspoken routine. Every few weeks or so, he'd show up at her door with a bottle of vodka and a bag of dirty clothes. She'd lend him her shower and her washing machine. Most nights she lent him her body. Some nights she lent him her kitchen.

It worked.

He didn't violate the few boundaries she'd set, and he began learning what, exactly, made her arch and shiver and fall apart beneath his fingers.

It worked.

She began noticing a slight pattern in the kenght of time between visits. It became easier to predict the nights when he would show up. She even began leaving extra leftovers in the fridge around the time she knew he'd be coming.

It worked.

One morning he made a sleepy-grumpy comment about the lack of coffee in her apartment. She reminded him where the door was. He returned the next time with an old percolator, and the next trip to the grocery store, she purchased a bag of coffee grounds and filters.

It worked.

He noticed her preferred brand of vodka, and brought only large bottles of that. He wasn't sure if she drank it all in one night, or over the course of the weeks he was gone, but it was always empty by the time he returned. Some nights, she'd twist open the lid and begin drinking it while he was there. Always straight from the bottle, and he thought amusing in a sort of patronizing way. She never offered to share, but he didn't care.

It worked.

One time he accidentally left a pair of underwear and pants at her apartment. She found them the next morning, after he had left, and considered just tossing them in the bag she had for charity. Instead, she ended up folding them and setting them nestky on a corner of her dresser for him to find the next time he showed up.

It worked.

He showed up one night buzzing with residual bloodlust and coated in a dead man's blood. She didn't even blink, simply watching as he shed his clothes. He didn't get in the shower immediately, grabbing her from where she stood and pressing a hard, raging kiss to her lips. She knew he'd stop if she said. She didn't say, and he fucked her with blood still drying on his face and hands. Some of it smeared across her own skin, and he wasn't sure she noticed until he dragged her into the shower with him for another round. The water ran red and brown, and her nails left marks down his back.

It worked.

###

Rachel eyed Sani speculatively. The dark-skinned woman ignored it, knowing the question would come bursting forth eventually. She didn't have to wait long.

"Okay, who are you fucking?"

Sani chewed her bite of lunch before answering with a lazy nonchalance. "One of your loved biker men."

A slow smirk spread across her friend's lips. "You lucky bitch. Which one is it?"

Sani arched a brow. "Does it matter?"

"Yes!"

"Why?" She took another bite, watching as Rachel tried to come up with a reasonable answer.

After a few moments of spluttering, she just said, "Because it does."

Sani smiled slightly, glancing at her watch and standing. "I disagree. Break is over. I'll see you later."

"I'll torture it out of you if I have to," Rachel called after her. Sani laughed quiet!y to herself, not at all doubting her friend's intentions.

###

It had been a shitshow from the start. Happy had gone into it with a bad feeling, and come out injured and covered in blood. So much blood he wasn't sure what was his and what wasn't. Quinn stood beside him, wiping excess blood from his hands and surveying the warehouse covered in bodies.

"Well, fuck."

Happy grunted agreement. There was no better sentiment. "I'll get the gas." Jet fuel burned at a thousand degrees; hot enough to melt steel and bone alike. Perfect for cleaning up this particular mess.

Quinn helped as he began dousing the place. "Those Aryan fucks won't be bothering us anytime soon. It'll take 'em months to take care of this." There was a distinctively proud lilt to his words.

Happy just grunted again.

His president kept going. "Headin' back to your girl after this?"

"She's not my girl." And she wasn't, not in the sense Quinn meant.

The other man shot him a rakish grin. "Maybe I'll give a visit, then."

Happy gave him a look that was only slightly more than blank. "She's mine. Don't mean she's my girl."

Quinn chuckled. "Possessive fucker."

He was, and he'd never denied it. Sani, with her dark skin that bruised beautifully and her darker hair that felt so good between his fingertips, with her snarling eyes and disinterested words, with her long legs and soft body-she was his.

He'd made sure she knew it. He'd make sure Quinn knew it. He'd make sure anyone and everyone knew it. Until and unless she kicked him off and out, she was his. No one else was allowed to touch her.

"Yeah," he finally answered the question, tossing the empty jug of fuel aside, "gonna see her after."

They walked to the edge of the warehouse, and Quinn pulled out a lighter. "Go on, brother. I got this. You got a hell of a ride."

Happy clapped his president on the back by way of thanks, disappearing from the site as Quinn sent it up in flames. He made it to her apartment in record time, not bothering to clean off the blood first. He knew she wouldn't care; he'd fucked her like this once, after all.

When he entered the apartment, though, he froze. She was curled miserably on the sofa, paler than he'd ever seen, and shivering whilst managing to be covered in sweat. Her eyes fluttered open as he approached, and she groaned softly.

"Can't."

He placed his bag on the floor, reaching a hand to her forehead. Her skin was fiery under his touch, and she flinched back slightly. Without a word, he scooped her up, setting her in her bathtub and beginning the water. She watched, curious and wary as he searched her cabinets for Epsom salts.

He'd taken care of his sick mother enough times that the movements were almost habit. She didn't ask, though, and he didn't offer an explanation, final!y finding the salts and dumping a generous amount in. While the water continued to run, he went to her freezer, pulling out a coldpack and returning to place it on her forehead.

Her eyes had been closed, and she opened them slowly again at the cold, blinking at him blearily. He could see the question in them and still didn't answer. He wasn't sure she'd appreciate it, anyways.

He didn't like his things, his toys, broken. Not unless he was the one who broke them. And she was his, and he wasn't at all yet ready for her to be broken.

###

 _Hi, guys! Sorry this took longer than usual; I've been super exhausted lately and just had no mental capacity. For anything._

 _But, here it is! A new snippet!_

 _Thank you so so much for all the reviews and responses on the last chapter. They make me smile and inspire me to keep going. You all are so awesome!_

 _So, thoughts? A rather longer excerpt from Happy's POV this time. I enjoyed writing it. If it's not evident by now, this is going to be a somewhat dark romance story. Which is different from literally every other Happy story I've ever read, which is why I want to do it :)_

 _Read and review!_

 _Kisses!_


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Sani woke up feeling horrendous and still better than she had yesterday. She was in her bed, tucked under blankets, with a damp washcloth on the pillow beside her. It took a moment, but she managed to remember what, exactly, had happened the night before.

Big hands washing and drying her, ensuring her fever broke and she stayed hydrated, all whilst his eyes had been cold and blank and empty.

Quite the oxymoron incarnate, she thought as she slowly rolled out of bed. Still feeling somewhat chilled, she wrapped herself in one of the blankets, wandering out to the kitchen. To her surprise, he was there, scowling slightly at his phone and drinking coffee.

She paused in the doorway. "You're not gone."

He lifted his eyes to her briefly. "You're not dead."

An eyebrow quirked as she moved past him to put on the kettle for tea. "Try not to sound too disappointed; you might hurt my feelings."

He just grunted, taking another sip of his coffee. She said nothing else, simply waiting for the kettle to whistle. The silence was tense, anticipatory, and she wondered distantly if she'd ever be able to relax around him.

Probably not.

She checked the time on the stove and frowned slightly. She would be late for work if she didn't leave within the next few minutes. She was only halfway to the kitchen doorway when a large, solid body blocked her way.

"No."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "Yes. Excuse me." He barred her way again as she tried to step around him, and she was too exhausted to swallow her annoyance. "I need to go to work. Please get out of my way." Her voice was sharp, words snapped, and he didn't move an inch.

"You're not going."

"You don't get to tell me that."

"Yes," he said, nodding slightly to the stove as the kettle began whistling, "I do."

She turned the knob with more force than necessary, trying and not quite succeeding at biting back her snarling irritation. "You have absolutely no authority over me." She turned to glare at him. "I'm going to work."

He caught her by the arm as she tried to escape quickly. "I already called in for you."

That stopped her immediately. She straightened, pulling her shoulders together and raising her chin slightly. "You did what?"

His fingers flexed around her wrist slightly. "I told you you're not going."

She spun suddenly, hand cutting sharply across his cheek in less than a second. "You have no right to order me around."

His black eyes seemed impossibly darker as he met her gaze, and his fingers tightened on her wrist hard enough she knew she'd bruise. "Yes, I do."

"No," she snapped back, "you don't."

A muscle ticked in his cheek, but he kept his face blank, voice low and steady as he said, "As long as I'm fucking you, I have every authority over you. And don't ever slap me again."

Whilst he seemed cool and calm, she was anything but, and her lips peeling back in a snarl. "I'll so as I bloody well please." She finally managed to tug her arm from his hold, stalking back to her room.

As soon as she reached it, though, she was overcome with exhaustion and all but dropped onto the bed. Perhaps, a part of her murmured as she began fading to sleep, he wasn't wrong in cancelling work for you.

But he had no right, she thought in response, and I surely will not tell him he was right. She was asleep in the next second

###

The next time Sani woke, she was utterly miserable. Fever wracked her body, her hair and sheets sticking to her even as she shivered uncontrollably. Pressure pressed against her sinuses and head, and her throat hurt with every breath. When she attempted to stand from the bed, her legs buckled, and she stumbled against her bedside table, knocking the lamp off with a loud crash that only made the pain in her head worse.

Her door banged open in the next second, and he was there, taking stock of the situation. Those black eyes flitted over her shaking form, still in the position she'd fallen into. He moved towards her, easily scooping her up and depositing her in the bathtub again. He started the water, once more dumping a generous amount of salts in, and she made an odd, whining noise.

"No," she protested feebly. "Want tea."

"Shut up," he grunted.

He tested the temperature of the water; it wasn't cold, but it was cool enough to make her shiver despite the relief it offered against her fever. Once the tub was filled enough, he shut the water off and disappeared. Sani sank further into the water, leaning her head back against the side of the tub and closing her eyes. She only opened them again when something burning cold was pressed to her forehead.

He stood above her, holding a coldpack to her head, eyes scanning her naked body. She swatted weakly at his arm. "Go away."

"No."

"Why?"

He didn't answer, but she saw his eyes flash in that way they did when he claimed possession of her. She supposed it was a point in his favour that while he liked to abuse his playthings, he also took decent care of them.

A sudden wave of nausea washed over her, and she lurched forwards, gagging. His movements were smooth and calm, placing the small waste bin in front of her and holding her hair back as she vomited up nothing but water and tea. She kept heaving even after everything had been expelled, unable to calm her body, and when it finally stopped, she collapsed against the tub, whimpering pathetically.

This was not supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to be sick to the point of incapacitation. He wasn't supposed to be here. And he definitely wasn't supposed to take care of her.

And, above all else, he wasn't supposed to see her so miserably, pathetically, disgustingly helpless.

He wasn't the caring type, she knew. It was one reason they worked; he wasn't the caring type, and she wasn't interested in the caring types. But he broke the dynamic she'd become used to, and she didn't like it because _it wasn't supposed to happen._

This was intimate in an entirely new way. And it was uncomfortable.

She wasn't aware she'd fallen asleep until the sound of the water draining drew her back awake. Like the night before, he wrapped her in her towel, scooping her out of the tub and drying her roughly. She groaned protest, and he ignored it, depositing her on her bed.

"No," she whined. "Sofa."

"No." He didn't even look at her, once again disappearing and closing the door behind him. She contemplated crawling into the living room to be properly angry at him, but she was already asleep.

###

She felt marginally better the next time she awoke. Outside her bedroom window was dusk, and when she listened, she heard the TV. He'd been in her apartment all day, then, and that annoyed her. Why hadn't he just left and let her suffer and die alone and in peace, as she'd wanted?

Because, she answered herself, he was a bossy, rude, misogynistic asshole who thought he knew best for her despite being nothing more than a fuck-buddy.

After a moment of preparation, she carefully got out of bed. It was an improvement that she was able to stagger to the door without collapsing. When she opened it, he looked over from the sofa. A large pizza was spread on her coffee table, empty beer bottles littering her living room floor, and she scowled.

"You're a pig."

An eyebrow quirked, but he otherwise didn't respond, watching as she staggered the rest of the way to her kitchen. She put the kettle on, taking note of the used coffee filters laying around her counters, and the empty take-out boxes thrown carelessly into a corner.

Instead of being further annoyed, though, she fell back against the counter, too exhausted to do anything other than sigh, resigned. She could feel him still watching her, and met his gaze. "Why are you here?"

"Like your pussy," was the crass answer.

She closed her eyes for a long moment. "Why did you stay?"

If anything, his lips twitched with vague amusement. "Can't have your pussy if you're dead."

She just stared at him for a moment, and then turned away. He was awful and rude and inconsiderate, but his possession over her apparently made him annoyingly loyal. In a roundabout sort of way.

Silence hung between them whilst the water finished boiling. She pulled down her favourite pot and tea, ignoring the continuing observation of her. He was just waiting for her to collapse again, she knew it, and while fatigue was already shaking her poor body, she stubbornly remained in the kitchen, sipping her tea until it was gone.

Placing the mug in the sink, she left the rest of the pot for later, beginning the seemingly endless shuffle back to her room. And he just watched, waiting. As long as she didn't fall again, he wouldn't do anything. Except, when she passed the sofa, he grabbed her around the hips, pulling her down on top of him.

Those black eyes continued to watch, and she barely mustered the energy to scowl. "Let me go."

"No." His hand rested on her forehead, checking her fever. It had lowered considerably, though she still wasn't at normal temperature. "You need electrolytes."

"No." She didn't want anything other than to go back to sleep.

"Yes." And with that, he carried her the rest of the way to her bed. She considered giving him a dressing down, but he was out the door, shutting it tightly behind him.

###

The fourth time she awoke it was sometime in the darkness of night. On her bedside table was a glass of water and a packet of electrolyte powder. She just stared at it, exhausted and resigned, before mixing the powder and gulping the somewhat horrid liquid down. At least, she decided as she drifted back to unconsciousness, she didn't throw it back up.

###

She felt wonderfully better when she woke up. Looking out her window, she saw it was just breaking dawn. No more fever, no more nausea, only a slight headache and sore throat. An entire improvement over the last twenty-four hours.

Because of one paradox of a biker, she thought. She wasn't sour about it anymore, though her resignation had been joined with mild annoyance. Why couldn't he just keep it easy and stick to their already-figured dynamic?

She should thank him, though, she decided, standing slowly and walking to her door. She expected him to be asleep on her sofa, as he did sometimes. Instead, when she ventured out, the apartment was empty. The pizza and take-out boxes had been cleaned up, coffee filters deposited in the trash, and almost all the beer bottles disposed of. He'd left one on her counter, intentionally, she knew.

He was a twat, but she hadn't been her usual distantly polite self either, and couldn't find it in herself to be too bothered.

With a quiet sigh, she reheated the tea in the pot, staring blankly at the floor. He was a distinctly bad person, and it was his fault she'd been arrested, and he was an unapologetically misogynistic ass, and domineering and commanding and possessive, and his only reasoning for helping her was entirely convoluted-

But he'd still done it.

Sighing again, she retrieved her phone, pulling up the number he'd given her, and typing a simple 'thank you.'

He didn't respond and she was grateful for that.

###

Happy glanced at his phone as it vibrated a message alert. It was from that _annoying_ pussy he'd _annoyingly_ taken a liking to. She was thanking him, and he had no doubt it was grudging, but it indicated she was most likely healthy again. Her constant politeness was commonly cold, but it had been a small source of amusement to see her lose her composure and that façade.

Quinn looked at him, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "Ya girl?"

"Yes."

"You can go back, if you want. Don't really need you here."

Happy declined the offer. He wanted to be here, having had enough of Sani. If he'd been able to fuck her, maybe he would've stayed longer. As it was, she was entirely too annoying for him to want to be around any longer, and he'd been glad when Quinn had called, telling him about their current job.

His president shrugged, not pushing the issue, and Happy managed to stifle his annoyance by imagining just how roughly and thoroughly he'd fuck her the next time he was there.

###

 _Hey, guys! Someone requested a longer chapter, so here's one! Not much longer, mind you, but still longer than they have been :)_

 _Honestly, I had so much fun writing this chapter. Sick Sani is a bitch, and I thought it was really funny. Now that the story is becoming more developed, it'll be less like a montage of scenes, and more like a flowing story haha_

 _I am sorry for my delay in answering reviews. I've been so very busy, but I will do it! And try to be better, because I appreciate the support and feedback a lot, and I want you guys to know how much :)_

 _Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I do!_

 _Side note, I just published my first Marvel fic (Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier/OC), so if that's your thing, go take a peek._

 _Read and review!_

 _Kisses!_


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Kayla gripped Sani's face in both hands, studying intently. After a moment, she sighed and have a small smile. "We were worried. Especially when that strange man called in for you."

Sani fought a scowl and settled in a small eye-roll. "Why did you believe him?" Not that he hadn't done her a favour, but what if he'd been kidnapping her?

Kayla shrugged. "Said he was your boyfriend. Sent me a picture of you looking half-dead with fever."

The dark-skinned woman sighed. "Of course he did."

Kayla seemed like she was trying to stop from prying and quietly asked, "Is he?"

"No." And he wasn't. Not really. He was a good fuck. And apparently a good house nurse. And annoyingly bossy and somewhat controlling, but Sani didn't say that, knowing it would only open herself up to further questioning.

Kayla nodded. "Okay. It wouldn't be an issue if he was, you know."

Sani flicked on her computer. "You say that as if it normally would be an issue."

"Well," Kayla sighed, " people know the Sons. They have a rep. "

"And then comes the judgement."

"Yeah, usually."

"So, you mean it wouldn't be an issue with you and Rachel."

Kayla shrugged. "Yeah."

Sani copied her shrug. "That's no concern of mine. He's not my boyfriend."

A smile quirked Kayla's lips. "Which one is it, anyways?"

The dark-skinned woman considered the consequences of answering. Keeping him anonymous would also keep everything easier. Especially when they ended it. But, she recognized this as a way Kayla was trying to bond, and appreciated the effort. "Happy."

Her friend fluttered her pretty blue eyes in surprise, but another small smile formed, this one more teasing than the last. "Wow, babygirl, you sure to big or go home."

Sani offered a smirk. "I prefer taking the big home with me."

Kayla was utterly delighted. "Is he as good as the Croweaters say?"

"I don't know what they say, so I can't answer. But, I like it." And she did. The sex. Just not everything else that she was slowly learning came with it.

"Suppose since he got you arrested, the least he can do is give you a good dick-down."

Sani coughed quiet laughter. "Suppose so."

Kayla checked the clock. "Gotta get to work. I'm glad you're better. Drinks tonight with Rachel?"

"It's a Thursday," Sani reminded mildly.

"Yes, and we're going out tonight. Coming?"

She thought for a moment, then said, "I'll consider it."

Kayla shrugged and smiled, prancing to her own desk. Sani released a soft breath. She still felt residual exhaustion from being so sick, and much as she enjoyed her friends, she wasn't sure she had the energy to deal with them.

The day went by in an odd haze of fast and slow. She was only half aware of what she was doing, completely forgetting lunch, and by the time Kayla stopped by for her final answer, she was completely worn down.

The pretty brunette frowned slightly. "You're not looking too hot." Her hand pressed gently against Sani's forehead. "No fever, but you just go on home. We'll drink enough for you." Worry glittered in her eyes, but she gave a teasing smile.

Sani just nodded, shutting off her computer and gathering her things. Kayla walked her out, and Rachel was waiting for them. One look at Sani, and she gave a sympathetic smile. "You just rest up, hun."

Sani managed a small, grateful smile, climbing into her car and driving off. That haze remained, and it seemed an endless amount of time before she was at her apartment, stumbling up the steps and into the bedroom. She could exhaustion winning the battle, and was only able to take her shoes and jewelry off before she was asleep.

###

She half expected him to turn up, but when she woke, she was still in her now-rumpled work clothes, and the apartment was empty. She couldn't help the small slither of relief.

She declined her friends' invitation for their weekly excursion to one of the charter clubs, opting to stay home and finish recovering. One wary eye was always on her front door. It never opened, though.

Not throughout the weekend.

Not during the following week.

Or the weekend after that.

And then it had been almost four weeks since she'd seen him or heard from him.

That relied remained, but it was now accompanied by tentative curiosity. Had he been hurt? had he gotten tired of her? Maybe he was arrested or killed.

She couldn't decide how she felt at the prospect of the last two.

But then, on a rainy Friday she'd agreed to spend with Kayla and Rachel at a club or two, she came home to a familiar bike in the apartment's parking lot, and a familiar man lazing on her sofa.

She shook out her umbrella, kicking the door closed behind her. "I have plans tonight."

He appraised her, dark eyes scanning with such intent it felt heavy. "I don't care."

"I do."

"Cancel them."

"No."

She walked past him into her bedroom, sitting on her bed and taking off her shoes. The stockings were next, and she had one off when his large presence filled her doorway.

"With your friends?"

She arched a brow. "Yes."

"They won't care if you cancel."

"I want to go." And she did. Kayla and Rachel were fun to be around, talk to, drink and dance with.

"I want you."

It was the perfect opportunity to throw his words back in his face. "I don't care." She got the other stocking off and stood, removing her jewelry and unpinning her hair.

He watched her but didn't say anything else. He didn't leave, either, and she refused to continue undressing, knowing he'd pounce as soon as she was naked. They stood, staring at each other, daring the other to give way first.

She wouldn't have if he hadn't moved quickly, dragging her to him and catching her mouth in a rough kiss. She gasped in surprise, but didn't fight back. Maybe, if they got this over quickly, she could still go out.

He broke away first, holding her in place. "You're mine all night."

She glowered slightly. "I want to go out."

"Too bad."

She jerked away from him suddenly, annoyance flaring. "Fucking hell, Happy! You don't just get to come in and order me around."

His eyes darkened impossibly, cheek ticking. "Why not?"

"Because I didn't say you could," she hissed. If he wanted to do a whole power play, fine, but it was on her terms.

His grip on her tightened at her answer. "I stop if you say stop," he reminded. The words sounded like they were forced past grinding teeth.

It was right there on the tip of her tongue. Right there. She opened her mouth, thinking of the promised evening of fun and gossip and dancing. Black eyes watched her every move with that predator's intent. She closed her mouth again, teeth sinking into her lips.

She wanted to go out. She liked her friends.

But, while she didn't particularly like him, she liked the sex.

She was suddenly reminded of how long it'd been. Her eyes shuttered closed in defeat. Against herself. Against him. She didn't know.

Didn't have the opportunity to figure it out as he all but attacked her. His mouth was hot and unforgiving against hers, body hard and unmoving. She kissed him back with just as much fervour, nails clawing at his shirt.

This. This was familiar. This was what their relationship was. Nothing else.

He pulled away suddenly, shoving her onto the bed and reaching for the knife sheathed at his hip. She realized his intent too late, only able to give a cry of shock that morphed into a small of anger.

"That was silk! And expensive!"

He just gave her a small, dangerous grin that sent cold shivers down her spine. She wondered distractedly how sick it was she enjoyed that sensation.

The knife found another victim of her bra, but when he moved to her skirt, she grabbed his wrist, squeezing tightly and purposely digging in her nails. He gave her another look, pulling out of her grasp easily. She moved, then, rolling away and hitting his arm with her leg. He was surprised enough the knife fell from his grip.

The three seconds of his surprise was long enough for her to escape the skirt. She gave him a defiant glare as she tossed the piece of clothing into her hamper. He just quirked a brow, glancing at the knife, and then seeming to decide against it.

Her flimsy panties were torn by only three of his fingers anyways, and she glowered. She remained silent, though, because the next moment his fingers found her heat, her wetness, and he grinned again. Terrible and wicked and she loved it.

"Dirty girl."

She might have responded if he hadn't eased two fingers in. They'd done this enough that he knew her, and how to work her, and it had been so long that it only took a few minutes of just his fingers for her composure to begin fraying. He watched her, black eyes almost impassive, but there was a satisfied, possessive glint to them that she decided to ignore for the moment.

Especially when he lowered his head suddenly, lips pressing along her hip bones and upper thighs. Then his teeth, each nip soothed briefly by his tongue, and the pain was so delicious, so wonderful-

Her muscles tightened around him, breathing going eratic, and he slowed his movements.

She almost whined, and then remembered she still had some dignity left, and simply gave another glower. He met the look with one of his own, cocky and daring, and she made to get up, reaching for him. He forced her back down, kept his fingers inside of her.

"Stay."

She ignored the order, and was reprimanded by a hard bite on her inner thigh. She jerked and yelped, and then his hand was moving again, fingers rubbing that one, glorious spot inside of her.

He bit her again, using his other hand to hold her down. "Breathe."

She hadn't realized she hadn't been and took a shuddering breath. She was breaking apart in the next moment, and he kept going, not giving her pause until her entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

He took a moment to appreciate the mess he'd already made of her, and she realized dazedly that he was still entirely dressed. He studied her a moment before pulling off his shirt. She was still too delirious to react when he shoved it into her mouth, only managing a weak glare.

"Tired of your voice," was the grunted explanation. She knew he was probably serious, but there was a glint in his eyes that might have been humour.

He flipped her over easily, propping a pillow beneath her hips, and she forced herself to relax. It was always like this; he didn't seem to like seeing her face when they fucked. Or maybe it was the power aspect.

There was the sound of a belt unbuckling, pants hitting the floor, and then he was in her. Her cry was muffled by his shirt, her body arching as it accepted the intrusion. The first few thrusts were softer than usual, letting her readjust after so long. Then his hand was gripping her waist, the other her hair, and he was fucking her.

Hard and brutal and unforgiving. It made her toes curl, body shake; it was everything she'd missed the last weeks.

He grunted harshly. "Touch yourself."

She made no move to, and was rewarded by a painful jerk of her hair that made her give another muffled cry. Still, she refused, and suddenly he stopped, yanking her up by the grip on her hair, holding her back against his chest.

"Touch yourself." The order was repeated softly in her ear.

She wanted to refuse again, but she also didn't, and when one of his hands came around to pinch her nipple-hard-it broke her resolve. Her fingers were trembling, but it didn't take long to find a rhythm. Heat. Friction.

He held them both still, simply watching, and soon her legs began trembling with the build of another release, muscles clenching around him as he still was inside her. He forced her back down suddenly with a growled, "Keep going," and was moving again.

She almost couldn't keep going, so overwhelmed by him, but her release was so close, so close-

She convulsed, scream nearly silenced by his shirt, vision whiting out, and he continued, forcing more and more onto her body until she knew she was going to break. And he still didn't stop. Not until she was helplessly limp, quivering with an overload of pleasure and exhaustion. He pulled out suddenly, and she felt warm strips of liquid across her back in the next instant.

It was crass and demeaning, and she knew it for what it was: a marking.

Not one that would remain physically, but she knew it had imprinted on her mind. The fact he'd done that, that he thought he could, that he-

Removed the shirt from her mouth and began wiping off her back with a gentleness that was surprising. She was too worn to move, to speak, to do anything other than submit to him. Maybe that's what he'd been after.

Her phone rang from the living room, and she wasn't actually surprised that Happy answered. "She's with me tonight."

She was, and that sent a dark, delicious thrill through her despite everything. He was going to break her. Again and again. And she was going to let him.

###

Kayla and Rachel had had questions, eyes flinging excitedly. Sani answered as best she could without giving away too much information. Her friends just grinned and giggled. That was nice.

She didn't see him again for another two weeks. And even then, she still didn't see him. Rather, she returned home to two bags placed on her coffee table. In one was a shirt, silk and high quality, and she couldn't decide if she was amused or annoyed.

The other bag contained three pairs of coordinated undergarments, each more raunchy than the last.

An apology, maybe, for ruining her clothes, but she suspected that it held a more possessive undertone. He was marking her again. She folded the clothes and put them away, anyways.

###

 _Hi, guys! A much more explicit sex scene in this one. I don't write them often so I hope it was okay :)_

 _This chapter was all Sani, so next will be all of almost all Happy._

 _I hope you enjoyed!_

 _Read, review!_

 _Kisses!_


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Happy found himself, more and more, thinking of _her_ ; the friend of a friend of a croweater, who had been arrested for helping him and who he'd bailed out. _Her_ , with her soft, dark skin and cold, distant politeness; who became so alive and warm and _burning_ under his touch.

He wasn't the kind of man who was going to fall in _love,_ who was going to get an old lady and settle down and have kids. But it was an odd comfort – and he wasn't sure how much he enjoyed that realisation – to know that her apartment, her body, her scent and voice and familiarity, it was as close to normal as he figured he was going to get.

The cigarette between his lips remained unlit, and he blinked out of his own mind to find Quinn watching him. The other man had an amused curl to his lips, a brow arched. "You good, brother?"

Happy finally lit the cigarette and nodded grunting affirmative.

Quinn didn't believe him for even half a second. "It's that broad? The one from SAMCRO?"

Happy considered not answering, and nearly a minute passed before he decided that wasn't necessarily the best idea. "Yeah."

Quinn nodded to himself, as if he'd known all along. He probably had. "She giving you trouble?"

Yes, but not in the way Quinn meant. She was giving him trouble with the thoughts in his head, and his continual attraction to her, and the fact that he didn't often do more than a single night at a time with the same woman consecutively, but for the past few months, he'd only been wanting her. Not even the sweetbutts with the other charters could entice him.

Most times, he found them repulsive and would shove them away from him. Sometimes, he let them get close enough to touch him under his shirt, but the feel of their hands made his skin crawl, and he couldn't tolerate it for more than a few minutes.

"Nah." She wasn't causing him extra drama, or trying to dig into his business, or talking to the police about anything she might suspect him doing. Far as he knew, she went to work, went home, and went out with her two party-crazy friends on the weekends.

"So," Quinn stubbed out the end of his cigarette, "what's wrong?"

Happy decided to take a leap of faith and actually _talk_ about things for once. "I don't want to marry her."

Quinn blinked; that clearly wasn't what he'd been expecting, but he took it in stride. "Is she pushing you to?"

"No." Happy had the sense she was the last person who would push for marriage. "But that's usually how these sorts of relationships end." Wasn't it?"

Quinn studied the grey sky for a long moment. "Not always. I know some brothers that got them an old lady and they ain't married." He shrugged a shoulder. "You can give her your crow without marrying her."

Happy scowled slightly in thought. "I'm not sure I want that, either."

"Well," Quinn straightened, "you can figure it out on the road. We gotta ride."

* * *

Sani lay on her living room floor, staring at the ceiling. It had been months, _months_ since this thing with Happy started. Somewhere along the way, she'd gotten used to him, gotten to like his familiarity, even if she didn't like much else about him. It was disconcerting, knowing that there was that little bit deeper of a connection between them.

He was just meant to be a one-night stand.

She sighed and closed her eyes. She should've said no, that very first night. And then again, when he showed up at her door, and when he offered her his shower, and then when he kept appearing, over and over and over.

She should've said no, because she knew, somewhere this wasn't going to be a healthy relationship, and she knew it probably wouldn't end well, _but goddammit if she didn't absolutely crave him._

Without really thinking anything through, she reached for her phone. Kayla answered on the first ring. "What's up?"

Sani rubbed her forehead. "I need to go out tonight."

Kayla was quiet for a moment. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Sani pushed herself into a sitting position, "just been a long week and I want to get messy."

Kayla giggled. "Sure thing! I'll call Rachel! Pick you up in forty-five?"

Sani agreed and tossed her phone somewhere near the sofa, already starting to regret this decision. It would make him angry. It might even hurt him, somewhere in that cold, dead heart he harboured beneath all those tattoos.

The worst part was that she didn't think she _wanted_ to hurt him. But she needed to prove, to him and herself and anyone else, that their relationship was not that serious, not that deep, and that _she didn't care._

She dressed and painted on her make-up, taking a moment to admire herself in the mirror and grabbing the bottle of vodka he'd left the last time he was here. Kayla and Rachel pulled up as she locked her apartment door and sauntered down the steps.

Inside the car, music blasted and the overlapping scents of different perfumes made the air thick. Sani smiled, anyways. "Where we going?"

Rachel shrugged. "There's a Latin club in the next town over we've never gone to."

For Sani, that was perfect.

So intent on forgetting him, just for the night, she didn't notice the motorcycle that passed them on their way out of town.

* * *

The club was dark and loud and thrumming with heavy bass and sweaty bodies of students from the local college. Sani fell into it with a desperate sort of relief. She was no one here, another dancer, another drunk, another pretty girl out for a good time. No one knew her face, or her name, or her relations to a certain biker who was certainly taking total advantage of her.

That wasn't even the problem, she thought drunkenly as she climbed onto a table with the help of another girl. The problem was that she let him. The problem was that she liked it. _The problem was that she wanted him to._

It wasn't healthy, it wasn't sane, it wasn't –

The girl beside her turned to her and started dancing against her, undulating and rippling and Sani gulped the rest of her drink, dropping the plastic cup and grapping the girl's hips. She was pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a necklace with the Cuban flag. She leaned closer as the song changed.

"Do you know what it's saying?"

Sani could barely make out the words between the bass and the alcohol, and she shook her head. With a smirk that made her eyes twinkle beautifully, the girl pulled Sani completely against her and began translating, " _The only place I want to finish is in your mouth…"_

Sani listened to her words below the music, found herself smirking back as her body fell into an instinctual rhythm against the other girl's body. Somewhere in the crowd, Kayla and Rachel giggled and drank and cheered Sani on, recording a video of a particularly raunchy thirty seconds she shared with the other girl.

It may have been hours or minutes later when Sani stumbled outside with her friends for gulps of cool evening air. The world tilted and wobbled, and she sighed happily, leaning against a car and closing her eyes, tipping her face towards the stars.

Kayla thumped against the car beside her. "So, how we feeling?"

"Brilliant."

She giggled. "Yeah? This what you needed, baby?"

Sani nodded, remembering her life before Happy and smiling; thinking of her life with him now and wondering how she let it get so far; imagining her life if she'd never met him. She wouldn't be worse of, to say, but –

He had taken care of her when she had the flu. And he always brought her a bottle. And he had replaced the clothing he destroyed. And – she counted this the biggest victory – he at least gave a warning knock before barging in.

Rachel leaned against her, and they slid along the car for a moment before restoring balance. "What you thinkin' of, hun?"

Sani opened her eyes; the streetlights were blurred and streaking across the night sky. "He can be gentle, when he wants." She remembered how annoyed he seemed to be taking care of her, and amended her statement. "When he needs to be."

Kayla rolled her head around to look at her. "Happy?"

Sani didn't answer, continuing to share her thoughts as they came. "He got me new clothes, and he gets me that fancy vodka I like. And," she was quiet for a moment. The stars were beginning to spin, "He stops when I say. He gets mad, but he won't touch me."

Rachel began stroking her arm. "That's good. None of those men are real bad, ya know? They're just outlaws."

"And bossy," Kayla added as an afterthought.

Sani began giggling; yes, she knew just how bossy. After another deep breath, she pushed off the car. Kayla and Rachel followed. "Back inside?"

She scrambled off before they answered, and they followed. The pretty Cuban girl was gone, but another girl was there. She came to Sani immediately, and they began dancing. The world was spinning, the music nothing more than bass, and Sani knew she was reaching her end point. Somewhere, Rachel and Kayla were at the far end of the club, and Sani couldn't see them. The girl was still dancing with her. The world was spinning and thumping.

She stumbled. The girl caught her. "You good?" Sani nodded, and tried to push her off. She needed the bathroom. The girl didn't let go. "Let's get you outside."

Sani shook her head. She didn't want to go outside. She wanted to find Kayla and Rachel and an Uber to a nearby motel. The girl was still dragging her. The air felt colder now, prickling uncomfortably at Sani's skin.

She stumbled as the girl picked up speed, and the world tilted dangerously. The girl's nails were beginning to hurt. "Come _on._ We need to hurry."

"Where?"

"Sst," she hissed angrily. They stumbled around a corner, and a large van flicked its lights twice. Sani was aware enough to know this was bad, _very, very bad_. She knew, somewhere, she had to do something.

Later, she wouldn't be able to say how she pulled out her phone, typing frantically and incoherently, listing everything she could see and think of. The girl grabbed her phone and tossed it into the tufts of dead grass that lined the sidewalk.

The van door slid open, and she shoved Sani in. "I got two. I'm done for tonight. I want to see my baby."

A man leaned into the slanted streetlight, pulling Sani the rest of the way in and pushing her to the very back. She stumbled again, sliding down the wall of the van awkwardly and landing half in someone's lap.

A familiar perfume almost choked her, and she squinted up to see the pretty Cuban girl, mascara smudged with sweat and tears. She looked down at Sani, and they shared a moment of comfort in knowing each other, in being together.

And then the door slid closed and the van jerked into motion, and Sani closed her eyes against the sudden nausea. Maybe, when she woke up, this will have just been a dream.

* * *

 _So, I admit, I fell off the face of the earth for a while. I'm sorry. But I haven't given up on this story. I'm almost on my spring break, and I'm planning to write a wholeeee bunch! Also, for those who carried over from my Jax/OC story, I'm thinking of doing either an alternate ending where Adelaide and Luna and Jax all have a happy ending together, or a few snapshots of Jaquelyn on her visit to the club. Preferences?_

 _Read, review!_

 _Lots and love and kisses to you all!_


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